Trost aftermath 6

[moonshadows]

The next few days - week? - are a hectic blur. Teaching biology to Ymir and Christa (and Armin, who is genuinely curious), peeling back swaths of skin on Sonny’s back to see if his muscles are as hot as Eren’s titan arm (not quite, but still hotter than his skin), and then just watching to see what the regeneration does with skin that’s moved but not severed. A meeting with Erwin and Levi, in which the last meeting is discussed and I get permission to conduct ‘unofficial’ experiments with Eren because if they’re done off the record and Erwin only finds out about them after the fact, he doesn’t have to report them to the brass and we won’t have them breathing down our necks. It’s a pleasant surprise that he’s giving me this much freedom, but even more so that he wants to control the flow of information. Another meeting, this time with all the Survey Corps officers, discussing the recruits from the 104th. Mikasa, to everyone’s relief, has focused on being as exemplary as possible - possibly out of spite. Connie and Sasha work surprisingly well together and have been firmly adopted by their more-experienced teammates. Jean, Mike reports, was high-strung and nervous at first but has excellent ODM skills and the makings of a strong leadership ability - but he needs to settle in more and gain confidence in his abilities. Marco is an all-around pleasure to have in his squad, and Mike thinks he’s bolstering Jean’s confidence in private...if we take his meaning.

I zone out for a bit while other Cadets are discussed and evaluated, and come back to hear Moblit giving a report on my Cadets. It’s a lot more concise and coherent than it would have been if I’d given it.

Between all the things clamoring for my attention and the worry that gnaws at me whenever I think of Bertholt - and all the possibilities relating to him, and Reiner, and Annie, who I also worry about - sleep is...not enticing, and I willingly let myself get swept up in one thing or another just to keep myself distracted by giving my brain something else to focus on. Lunch is the meal that Moblit has the most success getting into me, although I do occasionally realize that there’s a half-eaten plate of dinner on the table beside me and wonder if I ate it and don’t remember, or if Moblit fed it to me and I don’t remember. I always intend to eat the rest of it, but every time, I get sucked back into what I’m doing and then it’s morning and Moblit is giving me a look of despair as he hands me a mug of tea and some toast.

A few times, he is able to physically pull me away from the research blurring in front of my eyes, and I wake up on the cot in the corner of my workroom.

Reiner shows up at meals, sometimes to eat with us but mostly to collect plates and vanish again. He’s grimmer than we’re used to seeing, and Christa and Armin are cautiously concerned while Ymir just watches him with a piercing look. I don’t ask; asking might lead to sharing suspicions and broaching subjects that I promised to keep to myself.

There’s a noise, while I’m comparing Moblit’s sketches of Sonny’s back muscles to human back muscles in a medical textbook, and when I tear my attention away there’s a plate of cookies next to me. Cookies with dried cherries in them, probably the last of Moblit’s stash from last year, used to make room for him to stash dried cherries from this year, but it makes guilt squirm in my belly. Have I been that bad about eating that he’s trying to entice me with baked goods? And he didn’t draw my attention to them - I think - which makes me feel even guiltier because it means he knows he won’t get through to me, my suffering assistant digging into his bag of tricks to get me to eat. I reach for one, fully intending to take the bribe and be able to give Moblit that much reassurance, but stop halfway because it’s occurred to me that Moblit cares and my misbehavior has to be worrying him. My workroom has no windows; I have no idea what time it is, or even what day it is. Where’s Moblit? How long have the cookies been sitting here - did he try to get my attention only to give up? What is wrong with me that I can get so caught up in something that I don’t notice my assistant standing there, pleading with me, or even feeding me?

I’m a disaster, a wreck, my thoughts are spiraling and normally I would find a closet to hide in and ride out this storm, but I’m in my workroom and no one will come look for me. I can just curl up in a corner, or under a table, and no one will ever know-

“Squad Leader?”

That’s not Moblit. That’s...Bertholt? I turn, the spiral thankfully shattered, and see him standing uncomfortably with Reiner lurking behind him, grim-faced. The taller boy looks somehow apologetic and surly at the same time, as if apologizing for his bad mood.

“We finished organizing and cleaning the storage room,” he says in the tone of voice that practically screams that it’s an excuse.

I look back and forth between him and Reiner. This could have waited until morning, therefore there has to be some other reason they’re here. “I said you could always come to me if you needed anything,” I remind them, broaching the subject myself and not making them do it. “How can I help?”

“We need to meet someone,” Reiner says bluntly while Bertholt looks relieved. “About two hours away, and it may take some time before we’re ready to come back.”

I nod, already organizing a mental list, and then stop. “Am I invited?” I ask. “I don’t want to intrude, but...”

Bertholt murmurs something about cover if they’re stopped, and Reiner nods.

“You can come with us,” he says, “just don’t ask questions until we get there.”

This is it: the tipping point where I either save them from the fates I saw in my dream, or lose them entirely. “Understood,” I tell them. “Let me just...”

Moblit has left a cloth napkin under the plate of cookies; he probably transported them with it tied up and then unveiled them to my complete obliviousness. I tie the corners tightly and take the plate with me as I follow the two of them to the stables. Chestnut whickers softly as he recognizes my scent, and is obediently still and quiet as I saddle him up. Although the Survey Corps doesn’t usually plan to stay out past sunset, it is occasionally something that happens, and I grab one of the tent bundles and a camp mess kit along with the usual saddlebag contents. It’s only a handful of minutes before we’re riding through the woods nearby, getting enough distance that we can cut back to a road for a bit without being seen. I don’t ask where we’re going, but the moon is out and I know the stars well enough to have a rough idea of our path as we ride through the night.

Reiner and Berholt seem to know where they’re going; neither of them says anything as the road develops a low, crumbled stone wall to one side, and without a word we turn at an opening and follow a mostly-overgrown track into a small forest that, on closer inspection, seems to be an overgrown orchard.

“That’s far enough,” Reiner says suddenly, and we stop.

Bertholt dismounts and takes the reins of Reiner’s mount, then gives me an uncomfortable look that fades when he sees me take out the tent poles. “You go on ahead,” he says quietly to Reiner. “I’ll be right behind you.”

The stocky Cadet nods and vanishes into the gloom. Bertholt and I tether the horses in silence, and then he turns to me.

“Will you be okay waiting here?” he asks, as if not sure what he’d do if I said no.

“Of course,” I assure him. “I’ll set up the tent and make a fire - maybe not in that order - and there will be tea and cookies waiting when you get done with whatever it is you came out here to do.”

He looks startled at that, but nods and follows Reiner into the darkness.

It doesn’t take me long to cut a circle of turf and pile fallen branches in it, and dry leaves make good enough tinder that they light quickly. Thankfully, it’s a still night and I don’t have to worry about flaming leaves spreading my fire everywhere. But with the fire lit, I can see well enough to assemble the tent and get the tin teapot set up. Water from a water skin will have to do, and the tea leaves aren’t the best, but it’s better than nothing. In the distance, I can hear muffled crashes and thuds, but it’s not my business. I set the plate of cookies inside the tent, with my saddlebags, and take the napkin because there’s fallen cherries on the ground, and that means there’s ripe cherries in the trees.

By the time Bertholt approaches the fire, both my belly and the napkin - once again tied at the corners - are full of deliciously fresh cherries. I wave him cheerfully to the ground by the fire.

“Tea?” I ask as he sits down, reaching for the tin of leaves, but he shakes his head and I put it back. The teapot on its little metal tripod burbles among the snap-crackle of the fire.

After a long minute, Bertholt looks up from the fire to search my face. “You’re...okay?” The words are hesitant. “Not knowing what’s happening?”

“It’s not something I can ask about yet,” I tell him cheerfully. After all, I am sort of known for asking all the questions, so my silence here is out of character. “If you decide that I can be trusted, you’ll tell me what’s going on. Until then, I trust you.”

In the distance, something - or someone - screams, and the sounds of tearing wood echo back to us. Bertholt stares into the fire again, hugging his knees, and silence wraps itself around him like a cloak. I prod the fire with a long stick, sitting on my urge to hug him. If he and Reiner are going to side with me over Zeke, it’s got to happen on their terms. I’ve made my case, laying out my arguments in hugs and kindness, not attempting to breech the walls they erected around themselves. If there’s anything I’ve learned from being friends with Levi, it’s that sometimes, the quickest way past the walls is to not try to get past them at all.

When the sounds of conflict fade away, Bertholt stands up again. “Thank you,” he says quietly, and then he vanishes into the night to see how things went.

I put a few pinches of tea leaves in the pot and get out the tin mugs, then the lantern, which I light and hang in the tent. The teapot’s tripod gets moved into the tent as well, next to the plate of cookies, and the cluster of mugs go on the other side. Then there’s nothing to do but wait, and I hover awkwardly by the fire, listening for the faint crunch of footsteps approaching. It feels like a small eternity before I hear them, and then there’s three shapes emerging from the shadows - Reiner, steaming heavily from healing wounds; Bertholt, looking uncomfortable but relieved at the same time; and-

“Annie!”

The female Cadet looks up in alarm as I call her name, steaming slightly from her own injuries, and I crush her into a hug that I have to force myself to end after a few breaths.

“How are you? Have the Military Police been treating you well? I’m so happy to see you!” The words bubble out of me while Annie looks almost dazed. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer anything. Come, sit down, all three of you! There’s tea in the tent, and cookies that Moblit baked to try to get me to eat...”

Neither Reiner nor Annie make a motion towards the tent until Bertholt does, and then they follow him, each watching the other warily. When they sit, they do so one on either side of him, and I sit across from them and distribute tea. We all sip for a minute while Annie and Reiner steam quietly, and I nudge the plate of cookies towards them. Bertholt takes the first one, but hesitates before biting into it. His eyebrows go up, a small hum of surprised pleasure startled out of him, and then the other two take cookies. Guiltily, I take one as well, and make a mental note to apologize to Moblit and thank him for these.

“We’re joining you,” Reiner says once he’s finished his cookie. The words are thrown down like a challenge, but with no hostility - just a firm declaration of intent. “All three of us.”

I look at Annie, but she has her gaze buried in her mug. “I assume you mean more than just being in the Survey Corps.”

“We’re not from Paradis,” Bertholt says quietly. “We’re from a country across the sea called Marley.”

“We were sent to infiltrate you,” Reiner continues. “Our mission - it doesn’t matter now. We failed, but even if we hadn’t...”

Annie flinches and shrinks into herself, and my blood turns to ice. Bertholt wasn’t told of his father’s death. I suspected Reiner would be thinking of his family, but it didn’t occur to me to wonder about Annie.

“Your families,” I say softly.

“Annie’s father,” Bertholt says while Reiner scowls in the other direction.

“Are - is he in danger? Is that why you were fighting?”

“If we’d found what we came for, and brought it back, they might have released him...” Bertholt doesn’t sound convinced, and I don’t blame him.

“That’s terrible. Annie, I’m so sorry. If we’re ever in a position to do anything about it, I promise I’ll do everything I can to get your father out of there.”

Annie doesn’t look up, but she nods slightly.

“I assume that even if you had been successful, Marley would not have treated you kindly.” I try to keep my tone neutral, but the words still come out with an edge of fury.

Over cookies and tea, my worst fears are confirmed. The three of them take turns telling me in low voices how there are two types of people in Marley - Marleyans and Eldians - and how badly Eldians are treated. I’m trembling by the time they’re done, half with rage and half with the force of how badly I want to hug all three of them. Annie still looks startled and uncertain, but she does look up at me instead of keeping her eyes down, and Reiner has the look of someone who was preparing for a fight that never happened and now doesn’t know how to relax again. When I don’t react with shock or dramatics over the fact that we have an entire nation of enemies outside the Walls, they exchange grim nods and tell me what I’d suspected: that they were child-soldiers. Eldians, it seems, are the descendants of the people Ymir told me about and the only ones who can inherit one of the Nine Titans by devouring the previous bearer. Being told calmly about children being put through rigorous competition for the ‘honor’ of being turned into a titan and eating someone makes me want to gather up all the branches of the military and march over there to put a stop to it.

Not that that would end well for us, I’m sure.

All three of them have relaxed quite a bit by the time they’re done sharing, the teapot is empty, and the plate holds only crumbs. With bated breath, they wait for my reaction to learning that I am sitting in a tent with not one, but three titan shifters.

“Do you want me to keep that a secret?” I ask, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “Because I will, if that’s what you want. That’s what I’ve been doing since just after Trost, when I started suspecting. I wanted to keep any hostility away from you, and I’m glad I did after seeing how much distrust and suspicion Eren got. So if you don’t want anyone to know, I will do my best to hide all the evidence, but there are others looking for titan shifters besides me.”

Bertl looks down. Reiner and Annie exchange a glance around him; she shrugs minutely, and he nods.

“You trusted us,” Reiner says. “We’ll trust you. Tell whoever you thinks needs to be told, whenever you think it’s best.” Then he grins. “Do you want to see?”

Do I want to see. My smile is bright enough that I can see it reflected on the faces of the three Cadets. “Of course I want to see! Eren still hasn’t managed to transform all the way, and I wasn’t looking when he did it in Trost...” With effort, I keep myself from babbling excitedly. “...can I ask questions? Is that allowed?”

Bertholt gives me a faint smile as the other two stand up. “I’ll answer what I can?”

Reiner leads the way out of the tent, Annie hot on his heels, and I grab the lantern before following Bertholt out. The trio of Cadets goes in the direction of where the fighting happened, and Annie stops as we leave the orchard for an overgrown lawn studded with wildflowers. Reiner keeps going until he’s about twenty meters out, and then there’s a sort of orange bolt of lightning and where Reiner was now stands...

“Eh??” I look at Annie in surprise and more than a little confusion. “I thought that was you!” While she blinks in equal surprise, I turn back to the Armored Titan, now kneeling and bracing himself on his fist to get his head down closer to us. “I thought you were the big one!”

Annie snorts loudly enough that Bertholt jumps, then explodes into a storm of laughter that leaves her sitting on the grass, gasping for breath.

“I’m the big one,” Bertholt says with a faint smile.

Suddenly I remember the bolt of orange lightning that was our signal to return to Trost, and imagine Erwin looking out his window when that same orange lightning lights up his room, two hours away.

“Please don’t transform,” I say quickly. “I can’t hide that evidence.”

Bertholt’s smiling a bit wider. “I wasn’t planning on it,” he says. The amusement vanishes from his face, and I know that compassion was the right course of action because he takes no pride in his ability. As I examine the dermal plating that gives Reiner’s titan its name, Bertholt explains how destructive his transformation is, and that out of the three of us, only Reiner would be likely to survive being in such close proximity to it. “Why did you suspect Reiner out of the three of us?” he asks as he finishes.

Annie snorts again. “Reiner’s the weakest of us, there’s no fucking way he would have been given Colossal.”

I choose to ignore the comment. “First, because he was the leader between - well, between you and him. Second,” I say as Bertholt nods, “attacking the gates twice was more of an aggressive move, and the Armored titan not showing up in Trost could be read as the leader not having given the order.”

“And Reiner is more aggressive in general,” Bertholt says.

“I didn’t have much to work with.”

“No, it makes sense.” He glances at Annie. “And her as Armored?”

I cross my arms. “Tell me it’s not logical, and I’ll call you a liar.”

He flushes slightly in the lantern light. “It is. And me?”

“There wasn’t enough evidence to suspect three shifters, and of the three of you,” I say as Reiner walks back up, “you were the one least likely to be harboring that power - based on your personality.”

“You didn’t think he was a shifter?” Reiner grins at the taller boy. “That’s hilarious. I can’t fault you, but it’s still funny.”

“Not as funny as the idea of you being Colossal,” Annie snarks as she passes, on her way to where Reiner was when he transformed.

I turn to the other two. “Am I missing something?”

“There’s....tiers among the Nine Titans,” Bertholt says slowly. “They’re not all equally desirable. Armored used to be in the top tier, but the previous two bearers were...not very good.”

“You mean they were fucking useless,” corrects Reiner.

Bertholt grimaces, but doesn’t object. “...so now it’s bottom tier. Female-”

Orange lightning, and then there’s a mostly-skinless female titan standing where Annie was, stretching and crouching to show off how easily her titan body moves.

“-is pretty much in the middle.”

“There’s no skin,” I interrupt. “Eren’s partial transformation was just a right arm, and it had no skin, and it was hotter than Sonny or Beane. Is the lack of skin on purpose?”

“It helps her move,” Bertholt confirms. “Female is very fast. Titan bodies generate a lot of heat-”

“And the bigger the titan, the more heat. That would be why Colossal has no skin.” And why Bertholt runs so hot, maybe. I stop and tear my eyes away from Annie’s fluid motions. “Where-”

“Colossal is in the top tier,” Reiner says proudly, slapping Bertholt on the back. “It’s a hell of an honor to get.”

“You must have worked very hard to earn such an honor at such a young age!” I tell the blushing Cadet with genuine admiration.

“I did my best,” he demurs, trying to shrink away from the positive attention he’s probably not used to. “That’s what all the candidates did.”

“Still, I have no doubt that you were absolutely amazing, especially after hearing Moblit’s evaluation of your skills.”

Bertholt looks flustered but pleased as Annie reverts and walks back up.

“Now what?” she asks bluntly.

“Back to base,” Reiner declares, shooting me a quick look as if suddenly remembering that I do, in fact, outrank him.

Annie crosses her arms and gives him a hard look before asking Bertholt, “Is he...okay?”

“He’s...” Bertholt shoots a guilty glance at Reiner, who scowls at the grass. “I’ve got him.”

I look back and forth between the three of them. “Is this something I need to be aware of?”

“Let’s get the horses,” Bertholt says unhappily. “I’ll explain while we saddle them.”

“There’s nothing to explain,” Reiner says bitterly as we walk back towards the fire. “It’s like Annie said: I’m the weakest of us.”

“Then why...” I let the question trail off uncertainly. “I mean, you seemed to be in charge...”

“Oh, he is,” Annie says mockingly. “Bertl should be, but he doesn’t want it, so he lets this meathead make the decisions.”

Both boys shrink into themselves at that. I bite my tongue. When we reach the campsite, Reiner goes for his horse and Annie goes for Bertholt’s, but he helps me take the tent down and pack the teapot and mugs away.

“Reiner has...memory issues,” he tells me quietly. “He sometimes forgets that he’s not from Paradis, and he’s ashamed of that.”

The grimmer, darker Reiner suddenly makes sense. “His life was that bad in Marley?” I ask in a low voice.

Bertholt nods. As soon as the tent and tea things are back in Chestnut’s saddlebags, I surprise Reiner with a hug as fierce as the one Annie got.

“I have trouble remembering things, too,” I tell him as I let go. “It’s so bad that I need a keeper to keep me from being a complete disaster, and he has his work cut out for him just trying to get me to eat and sleep. At least your memory issues still leave you functional as a person,” I finish dryly. Then it occurs to me that there’s three horses and four of us. “Bertholt, take Chestnut’s saddlebags so Annie can ride with me?”

A few minutes later, we’re following the overgrown trail back towards the road.

===

The issue of whether or not to report to Erwin upon our return was never even a question; I’ve effectively either aided in the desertion of a Military Police Cadet or straight-up kidnapped her, and Erwin will need to get the paperwork going on her transfer before her superior officers come asking questions. Once the horses have been stabled, the three Cadets - the Trio, as I’m starting to think of them - follow me through quiet and deserted hallways until we reach Erwin’s office. He’s almost as bad as I am for getting to bed at a decent hour, so I’m not surprised when there’s a light under his door. Considering how often Levi gets pulled into late-night meetings, seeing him seated in the corner with a teacup might almost have been coincidence.

Levi saying “There; ask Hanje yourself.” when I open the door suggests this is not the case.

“Squad Leader.” Erwin’s words are crisp, almost bitten-off. He’s holding his temper, but he wants answers. “Would you care to begin your report?”

The boys step inside, flanking me, while Annie pulls the door shut and lurks by it. I can see Erwin’s eyes go to her jacket and narrow.

“Cadet Annie Leonhart is transferring to the Survey Corps immediately, of her own free will,” I say before Erwin can decide on a reaction more eloquent than ‘Hanje, no’.

“There had better be more to your report than that,” he says ominously.

I straighten, my irreverent cheer cooling into brisk smugness. “As a matter of fact, there is.”

Levi huffs into his teacup.

“After watching Eren’s transformation in Trost, it occurred to me that the actions of the Armored and Colossal titans - namely, their remarkable disappearances - could be easily explained by the presence of what had until now been thought impossible: humans with the ability to become titans.”

“Of course,” Erwin murmurs.

“I furthermore deduced that based on the Colossal Titan’s appearance on that specific day, the shifter most likely was a member of the 104th Training Corps, who were there in Trost for graduation.” The twitch of his eyebrows says he had not considered that - or hadn’t expected me to make that connection. “Armed with that knowledge, I searched the records of the Cadets until I located likely candidates, and cautiously reached out.”

Erwin’s starting to glower now, and the boys are starting to edge backwards, as if trying to avoid his unhappy gaze.

“Although that initial contact did not confirm anything, subsequent conversations were more fruitful and while they didn’t exactly confirm anything, that lack of confirmation cemented my certainty that I had located at least one other titan shifter within the Survey Corps recruits.”

Beneath his eyebrows, Erwin’s eyes bug out and in the split second before he opens his mouth, I know this is going to get messy.

“You mean,” he begins in a hard tone, “to tell me that you knew there was another one and you withheld that information from me? Why?” he demands, hands gripping each other so tightly that his knuckles are white.

“Because you don’t win over abused children by telling them that you think they’re enemies and not to be trusted,” I shoot back with enough edge in my words that they could be used to slice napes.

“They’re seventeen, Squad Leader, they’re hardly children!”

“They’ve lived among us for the last five years, Commander,” I spit. “The math should be simple enough for you to figure out without my diagrams!”

Levi has gone very still, teacup held to his mouth. Erwin is flushing, either with anger or humiliation or anger at being humiliated in front of witnesses, but it’s choking him and I rush to fill the gap with words before he can.

“By the time they entered our Training Corps, they’d already gone through military training of their own. These aren’t hardened soldiers sent to infiltrate us. These are children who were fed propaganda and made into weapons, sent into a foreign land on pain of death, possibly never to see their families again! And we took them in, treated them with compassion and respect - two things they likely never got in their own land - gave them a family, gave them a home. Look at Eren,” I declare in something close to a shout, gesturing vaguely in the direction of Levi’s squad barracks. “We know who he is and where he came from! His father was a respected doctor. Garrison Captain Hannes personally saved his life in Shiganshina five years ago and witnessed his mother’s death. And still, we treated him like an enemy to be shot on sight! How much more distrust would we throw at these children if we let it be known that one of them was the Colossal Titan that kicked down the gate of Trost just a few weeks ago?”

The cords in Erwin’s neck stand out, and I know this has gone from bad to worse before he lunges to his feet, hands planted firmly on the surface of his desk.

“ONE OF THEM WAS WHAT?”

Behind me, someone flinches and my world narrows to Erwin’s enraged face, my own rage flaring in response. “WHICH ONE, COMMANDER?” I bellow, my voice dropping into the male register. “YOU LOOK AT THEM AND TELL ME WHICH ONE YOU THINK IT WAS. GO ON. I’LL WAIT.”

Arms crossed, I lift my chin and stare Erwin in the face, daring him to actually open his mouth and shove both metaphoric feet into it. He’s smart enough to not do it, knowing that to even make a guess would mean accusing one of them - all of whom were in the top ten and have now turned down the prestigious Military Police to join the Survey Corps and serve under him - of being responsible for countless deaths. The moment stretches, Erwin’s rage faltering, and it becomes clear that he is not going to be dumb enough to actually open his mouth on this.

Levi’s long sip of tea is a smirk only I can see.

“And now suddenly you have nothing to say, hmmm?” My tone has gone back up to a more female range, mocking him and making no bones about it. “Now you remember that trust, once broken, can’t be mended so easily. You won’t condemn one of your own recruits like that, even in private, and it would be the end of the Survey Corps if you went public with having harbored the Colossal Titan. They were backed into a corner, ready to fight their way out if they were discovered. I gave them another option, and now they’re on our side. If you want to discipline me for withholding valuable information,” I challenge him, “do it. I don’t have a single regret about showing compassion to strangers who were bullied into attacking us.”

That word, regret, stops him in his mental tracks. We’ve argued about regret enough that he knows it was deliberate on my part, a metaphoric gauntlet thrown down, a figurative line in the sand that will mean war if he crosses it, because I’m not budging from my position. He’s reconsidering everything, now. Time to give him one more thing to consider.

“What would you have even done to win them over to our side if I’d told you, Commander? Called on their loyalty to a country that isn’t theirs?” He flinches slightly at that, and I load more mockery into my voice. “Would you even have tried to win them over, or would you have attacked them and made your legacy that of the Commander who caused the deaths of the entire Survey Corps?” Because, of course, I doubt even Levi would be able to take down any of them if he had to face all three of them.

Yeah, he would have, say the slant of Levi’s eyebrows. “Ask them when they first enrolled,” he says in a quiet voice that sounds bored, even tired, to my expert ear. “And when they first killed. We don’t allow kids to enroll until twelve. If they were twelve when they got here, that should give you an idea of what we’re dealing with.”

I can actually see Erwin swallowing his ego. He doesn’t want to give me the pleasure of being right, even though it’s painfully obvious to everyone that I am. “Thank you for your report, Squad Leader,” he grates out. “That will be all.”

It’s not so much a dismissal as it is a tactical surrender, but I’ll take my victories where I can get them. Chin high, I turn and sweep the Trio ahead of me out of Erwin’s office, pausing once the door has closed behind us because I’m getting hugged by Bertholt and Reiner and even Annie looks quietly grateful for my protective rage.

The door opens behind us, and Levi steps quietly out. There’s dark circles under his eyes when he meets mine with a momentary relaxing that conveys his deep approval. I guess this night was rougher on him than I thought, but before I can even think about how to apologize, his gaze slides to each of the Trio without even a hint of hostility. It’s like he’s seeing them for the first time, evaluating them in light of my very pointy defense.

“You three,” he says quietly, “it’s been a long night. Get some sleep.” His eyes slide to me, annoyed in general rather than at me specifically. “You too, idiot.”

He walks away without waiting for a response, and the four of us stand there watching him go until he’s out of sight. It’s Annie who breaks the silence first.

“I know he’s my commander now, but you want me to kick his nuts in?”

“No, thank you,” I reply absently. “I have my own methods of punishing him.” In fact... “Still got those cherries?”

Annie hefts the napkin bundle.

“Perfect. Let’s go to the kitchens and commit some baking.”

Confused, they follow me. It’s a dozen feet before Reiner snorts.

“He still has no idea which of us it is,” he says.

And it’s going to be several awkward days before he gets up the courage to risk my wrath by asking which of the Trio is the Colossal Titan. I snort, then chuckle, and Reiner joins me - then Bertholt, and even Annie’s smiling a little, and with our spirits lifted we make our way to the kitchens.

===

“Uh...Squad Leader?”

I keep mixing. “Yes?”

“It’s not...really...supposed to look like that...”

Bertholt looks very uncertain about the lumpy, dusty mess in my mixing bowl. I flash him a grin. “I know.”

“If you let me...I think I can fix it.”

My grin gets wider. “Absolutely not. Help Reiner and Annie, by all means, but I’m doing this one myself.”

Although he clearly doubts the wisdom of letting me make a cherry tart on my own when I’m doing such a horrific job just mixing the crust, he backs away with a nod. It’s not that I’m trying to mess it up, I’m just exceptionally bad in the kitchen and no amount of coaching has ever helped. The fact that Bertholt actually knows what he’s doing is a pleasant surprise, and may be part of why Moblit’s assessment of him was so rosy and glowing.

“Commander Erwin and I have a tradition,” I inform the Trio cheerfully. “When he has managed to be a spectacular idiot and I’ve salvaged the situation for him, I bake and leave it on his desk.”

Reiner looks over with a frown. “But your cooking is....”

“Bad,” I supply. “Yes. That’s the point - that even though I knew the results would not be the best, I still tried instead of giving it up as a waste of time and resources.”

Annie snickers.

“I’m sure there are many,” I say slowly, turning my dough out onto the floured counter, “who would have looked at you three and thought the cause already lost. They’re all idiots.”

“But you didn’t,” Reiner says, starting to roll his dough out. “You had no way of knowing we’d join you. We almost didn’t,” he adds with a glare at Annie.

Annie ignores him, rolling her dough out in cold silence.

“Annie’s father,” Bertholt says quietly. “She wanted to continue with the mission, return home and see him again.”

Mindful of my sticky, floury hands, I hug her carefully. She doesn’t react past going still for a moment, but she reminds me enough of a younger Levi that I understand it for the gratitude it is.

For a handful of minutes, we roll out our pie crusts with varying levels of success. Bertholt’s is perfect, Annie and Reiner manage decent crusts, and I resort to just patting the various lumpy, flour-covered pieces into a patchwork in my pie tin. We wash our hands as Bertholt starts to prepare the cherries.

“Captain Levi,” Annie says, not looking at me. “That’s who was in there with Commander Erwin, right?”

“Yes, that was Levi.”

“He didn’t care. That one of us,” she says, a slight smirk flavoring the words, “is...the big one.”

“He trusts me,” I tell them.

Reiner scowls. “That’s it? Everything that happened because of what we did, and he doesn’t give a shit because he trusts you?”

“He trusts me,” I repeat firmly, “and I trust the three of you enough to protect you from Commander Erwin. That tells Levi that you can be trusted. Trust is very important in the Survey Corps, and Levi and I trust each other deeper than most. I told him some of my suspicions about Bertholt and Reiner, and he gave me his word that he’d treat them as Scouts unless they did something to no longer be counted as such.”

“But that doesn’t apply to her,” Reiner says, jerking a thumb at Annie, who scowls.

“You remind me of Levi when he was younger,” I tell her. “You have to remind him of himself even more so. Especially because the last time he saw me breathing fire like that at anyone, it was in his defense.”

That startles them, that Humanity’s Strongest might not always have been the public darling he is, and effectively kills the conversation while Bertholt distributes pitted cherries for us to arrange in our unbaked shells. Then he sets us to mixing up a custard which, naturally, I am horrible at. I tell them stories of my first year in the Training Corps while we work, entertaining them with how utterly miserable I was at anything that wasn’t classroom-based, and by the time our tarts are in the oven to bake, the boys are comfortable enough to joke with me and Annie offers me soft little smiles when I look at her.

“I still think it was a waste of cherries,” Bertholt sighs some time later as he pulls our tarts out of the oven to check them and sees that mine, somehow, has burned.

“Ah, but we wouldn’t even have had the cherries if you three hadn’t had your midnight slugfest in a cherry orchard, and I hadn’t come along and been left there while Annie and Reiner settled their differences with fists. So really, they were my cherries to waste, and if they remind Erwin to stop and think, are they really wasted?”

Reiner looks up from admiring his tart. “That’s a good point. You can have my tart.”

“But I already had so many fresh cherries while picking these! You worked hard on that, Reiner, you deserve to enjoy the fruits of your labor.”

“We wouldn’t have had the cherries without you,” he insists, “and you’re sacrificing your share for us. The least we can do is sacrifice a little for you in return.”

“We have three tarts,” Annie interjects. “We can spare one. You can have mine.”

While she and Reiner glare at each other, Bertholt meets my eyes with a weak smile. “You can have mine,” he says quietly. “As thanks for everything you’ve already done for us.” Then he looks at his companions and sighs.

“You’re fine with her sharing your room?” I ask him in a low voice. “Not just until her transfer goes through, but permanently?”

Bertholt gives me a wry look. “It’s for the best.”

I don’t want to come out and say he’s right, but he’s right. I nod and heft my ruined tart. “Let me put this abomination to Erwin’s office, and then I’ll accept your tart and let you three get some sleep.”

===

Erwin’s in his rooms, asleep, and I am able to lay the ruined abomination of a cherry tart on his desk and creep back out without any distractions. Reiner hands me one of the non-horrific cherry tarts with a smile and I beam at the Trio, practically singing with joy at the reminder that Annie is going to be part of my squad. Bertholt follows my gaze and gives me a limping little smile, wordless thanks for having enabled their plan and gone along with it, and while Annie still looks prickly and discomfited, her glare softens slightly as she meets my eyes.

“Go rest,” I tell them, cradling the tart in my hands. “Take the day off. You deserve it. I’ll handle Commander Erwin.”

I get three nods, and they go one way while I go the other, heading back to the room I share with Moblit and feeling very pleased with myself. After all, winning not one but three titan shifters to our side is a tactical victory Erwin can’t deny, and winning the trust of three scared children who had no one to confide in is a personal victory that makes me feel warm enough to be gently radiating light.

That lasts until I close the door behind me and turn towards the desk, only to see a crumpled shape on my bed and a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the floor.

“Moblit?” The name comes out as a choked whisper, worry clogging my throat, and almost absently I put the tart on my desk so I can turn all my attention to the sandy-haired figure stirring on my bed.

“Squad Leader,” he rasps, not quite a question, almost a prayer answered too late. He’s clutching my pillow rather than laying on it, and when he lifts his head to blink blearily at me, I can see that his eyes are bloodshot and his face is covered in light stubble.

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him unshaven, and I know I’ve never seen him look this...rough.

“Are you...drunk?”

“Not as much as I was,” he answers bitterly.

Over the last three years, I’ve heard Moblit express a wide assortment of unhappy sentiments, but this one is completely new and I feel frozen in place, standing by the desk, unable to move and uncertain of everything. “But you don’t drink.” The words bubble out without my conscious consent.

“I drink all the time, Squad Leader,” he corrects me. “You just never saw it because I only drink when you’re not there.”

It has to be my brain finding ways to make me feel guilty, but it almost sounds like Moblit’s saying he drinks because I’m not there.

“Are you actually going to tell me where you were?”

“I...” That was resentment. Moblit is very, very unhappy with me, and I feel somehow more terrified than the first time I faced a titan.

“I was worried,” he says plaintively. “I woke up and you were gone. I couldn’t find you anywhere. I was afraid something had happened to you. And then I checked the stable and saw Chestnut was gone. You left on purpose,” he accuses suddenly, hurling my pillow at me on the last word, using that momentum to sit up and - not quite glower, but sulk in my direction.

I fucked up.

“Anything you need, I’m always there for you,” he says heavily. “Three years taking care of you. But you don’t trust me.”

I fucked up.

“I trust you,” I whisper in weak protest, but he glares at me for a second and then it fades into despair.

“No, you don’t.” He sniffles, tears leaking from his eyes, and I realize with cold horror that the redness of his eyes was because my poor assistant was crying. “You’ll fall asleep in my arms, but you didn’t tell me you were leaving. You’ll come to me for comfort, but you didn’t ask me to saddle Chestnut for you. You had a whole talk with Captain Levi about Bertholt and Reiner, right in front of me, and you didn’t tell me anything. You didn’t even tell me where you were going in Trost! You just took off, and I had to find out from Captain Levi that you were at the Headquarters.”

He’s right; I’ve been hiding things from him and not keeping him in the loop, taking advantage of my selfless assistant, and I don’t deserve anything he’s ever done for me. I’m a horrible leech, a selfish freak taking my wonderful assistant for granted, treating him like a tool rather than a person. Everything I am crumbles into ash and I climb onto the bed next to him, desperate for the comfort he represents even though I am the worst scum to have ever been born, treating my Moblit so horribly. I want to hold him, to soothe his pain, but I caused his pain; I have no right to even touch him. My limbs curl up, wrap around me, and as a tight and shuddering ball I lean against him.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, eyes shut, focusing on the heat of his shoulder against my cheek. “I’m sorry, Moblit. You’re right. I’ve been taking you for granted. I should have been more open with you. I should have told you-” My throat closes on how much I care about him. “I should have told you a lot of things,” I say darkly, furious at myself for mistreating this amazing man so badly. “I’m sorry. I’ll be better, I swear. I’ll tell you everything from now on.”

Please don’t leave me.

The warm shape under my cheek shifts, Moblit putting his arm around me, hugging me closer. “You’ll tell me what you told Captain Levi? You’ll tell me where you went, and why?”

“Everything. All the things I didn’t tell you, about Bertholt and Reiner and my dreams and everything. I do trust you. I promise. I’ll tell you everything and do my best to show you how much I appreciate you.”

One finger caresses my cheek. “Do you?” Moblit asks sadly. “Appreciate me? Because I care about you, Squad Leader. A lot. And I know you’re not comfortable with certain words, so I’ve tried to show you how much I care but if that’s not welcome...”

The thought of losing Moblit in any way is bad enough, but the idea that I could lose his affections rips open every bleeding wound I’ve ever bottled up and repressed and I’m clinging to him as if I could keep his affection by physical force, all my words drowned in tears. Dimly, I am aware that Moblit is trying to soothe me, but I resist - this isn’t a cry for help, this is an expression of attachment. I may not be able to tell him how I feel in words, but I can tell him in tears exactly how much he means to me. Eventually he submits, his head on my shoulder as I cry into his hair, and I swear I can feel his body shudder with tears of his own, arms wrapped desperately around my waist.

An indeterminable time later, through my own shaky breaths, I hear words bleed out of him.

“I’m so tired, Hanje-san,” he sobs. “I’d spend my whole life being there for you every second of every day, but I can’t do it anymore if I’m not going to get anything back. I just can’t, I don’t have the strength. All I want to do is take care of you, but I have to bully you into letting me! It feels like...like I’m not important to you. Like you’re overflowing with affection for and attachment to everyone except me, like I’m being excluded and ignored and - do you not want me to care?” he wails into my shoulder. “Should I stop trying?”

My heart shatters.

“I want you to care,” I sob back at him. “I’m sorry, Moblit. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never intended to make you feel ignored or unimportant because you are important to me. Please keep trying. I’m sorry I’m a mess. I’ll change. I’ll be better. I’ll - I care about you. I’m very attached to you. I don’t know what I would do without you and I don’t know what I’m doing but I hurt you and I’m sorry, I’ll be better, I promise I’ll be better. Please care. Please keep doing things to show me, as much as you think I can handle. I’ll try to show you, too. I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m a disaster, but I care about you and you’re too important to me for me to risk fucking things up and losing you.”

“You care?” Moblit repeats in a small voice, as if those were the only words he’d heard.

I didn’t think there was any part of my heart left that was big enough to break further, but something breaks and I cling to him even tighter, cheek rubbing against his hair. “I care very much. Your gestures are welcome, very welcome. Your feelings are welcome and returned. It’s just that I...” My voice breaks. “I’m a mess, Moblit, I’m so sorry. I have feelings for you, but I don’t know what to do with them because thinking too hard...my thoughts get locked into a spiral because I want- but I’m afraid, I’m terrified, I’m a mismatched gender mess, a weirdo, a walking trash heap, and all I can focus on is that if I got up the courage to say anything, do anything, then I’d surely be rejected because who would actually want to be in a relationship with a disaster freak like me?”

“I would.”

The words are quiet but solid, secure, unshakable. It breaks the spiraling momentum of my thoughts and even stills my shuddering breaths.

“I very much would,” Moblit says, pulling out of my surprise-slacked grip to lift his head and meet my startled gaze, eye to eye, tear-clumped lashes to tear-spattered glasses. “I would like that a lot,” he says softly, one hand curling gently behind my head to urge me closer, and the closeness of his lips makes me freeze in terror, but he only presses our foreheads together. “I won’t say it,” he reassures me, his other hand finding my clenched one and gently enfolding it. “I know you have issues with the word. So I won’t say it until you’re ready to hear it. You really want me to keep showing you that I care?”

Mutely, I nod.

“And you really want me to push it as far as I think you can handle?”

Another miserable nod.

“And you’ll tell me all the things you haven’t?”

“Everything,” I promise in a rusty voice. “Just let me bring Levi some of the cherry tart as an apology first.”

Moblit chuckles and pulls me into a hug, my cheek against his shoulder. “I’m still more than a little drunk, myself, and you haven’t slept in two days. Sleep, and let me sleep, and then you can tell me everything while we eat, okay?”

The reminder of how much I’ve been focused on things in the last few days makes my hair itch. “I want a bath, but I’ll probably fall asleep. Come find me?” Moblit’s breath catches, and I’m suddenly terrified that I’m taking him for granted. “Reiner and Bertholt came from outside the Walls, along with Annie. They decided to defect to the Survey Corps. I disappeared because they had to discuss it with Annie, using their fists.”

My assistant lets out a shaky breath. “Okay. I can see how you would have just...kept all that to yourself. Go give Levi some...cherry tart?”

“Bertholt made it,” I assure him. “It’s actually edible.”

“Okay.” Moblit chuckles again. “I look forward to hearing the whole story. Go give some to Levi and take a bath, and I’ll come find you and bring you to bed. I care about you, Squad Leader.”

“I care about you,” I whisper back, cheeks flaming because I know what he meant, but he didn’t say it because he knows I can’t deal with hearing it yet. “Please keep being your amazing self, Moblit, because one of us has to be amazing, and it’s not me.”

“I’m not amazing,” he counters. “I’m drunk and I need to shave and I feel like I failed you.”

I shake my head, hugging him a little tighter. “No. I failed you. But I’ll be better, I promise.”

Moblit turns his head, stubble catching in my hair as he presses his face into it. “Okay.”

===

It’s not hard to find Levi - if you know him. If you don’t, I hear, it’s impossible. But it doesn’t take me long to locate him in one of the small officer’s parlors, sitting at the table with a teapot and a teacup. He looks up as I enter, eyes almost immediately dropping to the side, and takes a sip as I sit down across from him.

“Find your assistant?” A brief, sharp glance at me before his eyes slide away again. “He woke me up, looking for you.”

Oh. That explains why Levi is so unhappy but trying not to impale me with it. My “sorry about that” would sound flippant to anyone else, but my hands knotting in front of me shows him that I understand the severity of Moblit’s accidental transgression. The slice of cherry tart sits between us in ominous silence, loosely wrapped in a napkin. “Yes, I did. He was waiting for me.”

Levi’s eyes dart to my glasses, his expression hardening slightly at the tears drying on them, but I remind myself that Moblit wants to be in a relationship with my dumb ass, and the metaphoric sparkles that radiate from me have him looking away with an almost-imperceptible huff. He’ll let it slide for now because I’m clearly not upset, but he expects a full report once he’s actually gotten some rest.

I wait in slightly-giddy silence until his gaze comes to rest on the cherry tart.

“We baked,” I announce brightly. “Me and the Cadets. I left mine on Erwin’s desk.”

His eyes roll with a tiny huff because he knows how utterly useless I am in the kitchen and thus, the tart left for Erwin is guaranteed to be a lumpy, mis-seasoned, burned abomination and an inedible affront to the very concept of food.

He also knows I only inflict myself on a kitchen when I’m reminding Erwin that doing your best -even if it’s a complete disaster - is better than not even making the attempt because you don’t think your efforts will result in anything worthwhile, and that because I made an attempt where he did not, I have handed him a victory he didn’t deserve and he owes me.

Not that I’m holding him to it. Just something for him to keep in mind going forward.

“You idiots still doing that?” Levi asks in a quiet voice, teasing that sounds like something harsher.

I beam at him. “Just reminding him that he is being an idiot.” 

Levi’s sip of tea is silent agreement and some very disrespectful amusement. I nudge the cherry tart closer to him, and he shoots me a dirty look.

“Turns out, Bertholt actually knows his way around a kitchen,” I tell him. In other words, this one is edible because I had no part in it.

Levi’s disgust fades, and he looks away. The offering is acceptable, and my unspoken apology is appreciated.

I stretch. “Well, I’m off. There’s a hot bath calling my name, and Moblit has been begging me to sleep.”

The corners of his eyes relax in a minute smile, Levi expressing approval for anything that nudges me closer to my assistant, and my answering smile reassures him that progress is being made on that front. Mission accomplished, I stand and leave the room, secure in the knowledge that Levi has forgiven me for my part in ruining his night.

Time to go pass out in a hot bath and give Moblit a heart attack.

===

Waiting for the bathtub to fill is a process that requires patience, something I am supremely bad at. Cleaning the dried tears off of my glasses takes all of a minute and a half, and then I kill a few more minutes determining that the wooden stool will, in fact, hold my head out of the water so long as I place it upside-down in the tub and use it as a backrest. That leaves no place for my clothes except on the towel chest, and I pile them carefully up on one side with a large towel on the other.

After all, Moblit is going to be checking on me and I don’t want him to have to juggle my clothes in order to get a towel out.

Of course, that leaves me naked and wet, and standing around shivering in the drafty bath cubby is much less attractive than sitting in the tub as it fills, so I leave my glasses on top of my clothes and climb into the slowly-rising hot water. Washing my hair in a tub is less than ideal, but I’ve done it enough to not really be bothered. It beats the open floor plan of the women’s showers, and the accompanying social gauntlet. I scrub my skin while I’m at it, and then curse because I opened the drain to get rid of the dirty water and now I have to wait for it to fill again.

I miss Moblit.

There’s nothing quite so humbling as crouching, naked and shivering, in a bathtub because you are somehow incapable of keeping your thoughts going in a single, unbroken, straight line. I would be functionally useless without my patient assistant, and I comfort myself with the fact that I will be proving my sincerity to him by telling him all the things I don’t tell anyone but Levi - and the things I haven’t told Levi. There’s not many; I trust Mozu implicitly, and even the things I haven’t told him yet are things I’ll be telling him in the near future.

Between the subject of trust and my chilled state, I remember the first time Moblit came to fetch me from a bath and how I’d stood with my back turned to him, naked and shivering with more than just cold, as I told him firmly that he Was Not Allowed to see what lurked beneath my cup. He’d assumed it was similar enough to a man’s that it wouldn’t be an issue, since he knew that Levi had knocked me out and bathed me just a few weeks before. When I informed him that such was not the case, and that Levi was trusted deeply enough that I was certain he would not comment on my genitalia or judge me for them, Moblit just said I understand and I apologize.

Oh.

No wonder Moblit had insisted I don’t trust him. No wonder his breath had caught when I’d asked him to fetch my sleepy ass from the bath. I’d forgotten all about that prohibition because I do trust him now to not comment or judge, and because he has always been a perfect gentleman about not looking, and now I feel even better about this bath because it’s going to be an object demonstration of trust.

That, and the water is high enough that I can prop my head up on the rungs of the upside-down stool and not be worried that I’ll drown when I fall asleep.

I drift as the water rises, spluttering awake once it reaches my lips and turning it off with my toe. But I’m warm and floaty and I trust Moblit, so I nestle back into the embrace of the bath and let sleep take me.

===

Something is making noise, hard and sharp and rhythmic, but I ignore it.

“Squad Leader?”

It’s Moblit. I make a sound to acknowledge that I heard him, and there’s soft scuffling noises, but nothing to force me out of my sleepy darkness.

The noise happens again, and a wordless sound of annoyance expresses my displeasure.

“Come on, Squad Leader,” Moblit urges softly. “It’s time to get out.”

No. I don’t want to. Eyes closed, I frown.

“The water’s not even warm anymore, Squad Leader.”

Well...now that he mentions it, the floaty darkness is a bit chilly. I’m still not opening my eyes; that might be admitting that I am awake when I very much do not want to be.

“Come on, give me your hands.”

I don’t give them, but I don’t protest as he takes my arms by the wrists and gently tugs my mostly-limp body until my knees are crammed against one side of the tub and my back against the other, and I’ve lost my head rest. Reluctantly, I cooperate as he tugs me up, to my feet, and frown blindly at him again as the cold air hits my wet body.

His hands vanish.

“I know, I know, you’re cold and you don’t like it. Hold your arms out?”

Seems like a pointless request, but I do it. Something soft - oh, the towel - starts rubbing them, one and then the other, leaving them dry and marginally warmer. Another towel is wrapped around my hair, keeping it from dripping down my back, which the first towel begins to scrub dry. My chest and stomach are next, and then warm hands under my arms lift and I pull my legs up, then stretch them down again to find the floor as soon as I think they’ve cleared the tub. The towel rubs them dry as well, ankles to upper thigh but not high enough to make me nervous, hips and sides and then I’m being encased by something soft, and thick, and lifted into Moblit’s arms with my head on his shoulder.

A small, pleased sound hums out of me.

Moblit maneuvers out of the bathing cubby and carries me down the hall, something that makes me feel warm and squirmy.

The rocking of Moblit’s footsteps stops. “Squad Leader? I’m sorry.”

“Mm?”

I’m juggled in his arms as he...opens a door? “For getting drunk and talking to you the way I did. I shou-”

But whatever else he’s trying to say is drowned under the increasingly loud and irritated noise I make until he gives up and stops. There’s a pause while he closes the door.

“But-”

“NnnnNNNNNnn!”

Another pause. “I should stop talking because you think I’m amazing even if I don’t, you’re just not awake enough to say it?”

“Mm,” I hum in pleased agreement.

Moblit’s arms tighten around me, and I can feel his breath in my hair. “Thank you, Squad Leader,” he breathes in a shaky voice. Then he sets me on a surface I have to assume is my bed. “Sleep, Hanje,” he orders gently. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

I let the warm, soft darkness take me.

===

Something smells delicious.

The welcoming embrace of my quilt is a barrier between me and food, my stomach informs me irritably, and I writhe around until Moblit’s hands appear to sit me up and peel the quilt away enough to get my arms free. Then they come back with a damp handkerchief, cleaning the gunk out of the corners of my eyes, and when I open them, he smiles at me.

“Hungry?” he asks, moving a lap desk over my legs without waiting for an answer. The plate it holds is piled high with eggs and bacon, sausage and potatoes, with cheese melting over everything and buttered toast tucked in around the edges. He holds out a fork. “Can I feed you, or are you too hungry for that?”

I open my mouth to apologize for stealing that joy from him, but stop. Moblit tried to apologize. He puts up with so much from me, he is always there whenever I need something, and despite knowing exactly how big a wreck I am, he wants to be in a relationship with me.

He wasn’t sure his affections were welcome. I need to do better.

Under the lap desk, my hands knot together and I open my mouth wider, silently communicating to my wonderful assistant that he may, indeed, indulge himself and feed me. This time, unlike the day after Trost, my eyes are open and I can see his incandescent smile as he perches on the bed next to me.

He wants to be in a relationship with me, I remind myself as he feeds me the delicious breakfast that he probably prepared himself, because he’s gone through three years of trying to get me to eat, and he knows that if it’s bland - like the food usually is in the SC kitchens - it won’t get eaten. I eat every bite and then drink the mug of milk he holds for me. The lap desk is removed, and when Moblit pulls me into his arms, I nestle against his shoulder.

“Feeling better?” he asks gently, one hand brushing a stray lock of hair out of my face.

“I should be asking you that,” I murmur into the skin of his neck, and I can see his ear turn pink as he flushes.

“Much better,” he says quietly. “I still don’t think I acted appropriately, even though it did lead to a favorable outcome.”

“Moblit...”

“Squad Leader, I still feel guilty about yelling at you that first time.”

It takes me a minute to remember. “The time with the chart showing how many meals I’d missed?”

“That’s the one,” he confirms, hugging me tighter. “I know it led to a healthy discussion and you eating more. It doesn’t matter; I still feel guilty that I acted that way towards you, and nothing’s going to change that.”

Well, that’s fair, considering... “I feel guilty that my behavior led to you being so frustrated that you yelled,” I tell him quietly, “and nothing’s going to change that. I’m a wreck, Moblit. I don’t know why that hasn’t driven you away.”

For a moment, he just strokes my hair and presses his face against it. “I was raised by two uncles,” he says finally. “Uncle Jonah, who I’m related to by blood, and Uncle David, who adopted me as his heir and gave me his last name. My family...it’s a noble one. They didn’t like Uncle Jonah moving in with Uncle David, and sent some thugs to ‘teach him a lesson’ when Uncle Jonah wasn’t around. Both of Uncle David’s legs were shattered, I know that much. I don’t know what other damage he suffered, but he can’t live by himself. He can’t stand without help, he can’t walk. I grew up watching Uncle Jonah taking care of Uncle David, doing the cooking and cleaning and helping him to the bathroom and fussing over him and being so happy about it that I honestly can’t imagine being in a relationship where I didn’t do the same. I know you’re a wreck,” he says soothingly. “But I can help, and you’re magnificent with help. I want to help. When Levi...”

His words falter to a halt, and I can guess what he means. “Levi’s first year?”

The first year Levi was in the Survey Corps, when I was a candle burning at both ends, performing my duties as Squad Leader and practically fighting the officers who thought Levi should be tossed back into the Underground while also doing everything I could to help the wild Mozu through his grief - grief I shared, because I may not have known them long, but Farlan and Isabel welcomed me as enthusiastically as I welcomed them, and knowing that they were going to die just made them more precious to me.

“I wanted to help you,” Moblit says in a small voice. “You were hurt and suffering and I wanted to take care of you, fuss over you, cook you food and tuck you in and support you while you were supporting Levi. That’s when I - well, it was a crush at first, but when the feelings didn’t go away after a year or so, I went to Mike and he sent me to Levi and I told him that I had feelings for you, and he...”

“He dumped you on me,” I finish in an equally small voice. Has he been watching us for three years, hoping his friend would find happiness with someone that wasn’t him?

There’s a small pang of guilt that it’s no longer so overwhelming to think about those feelings. Moblit wants to be in a relationship with me, and he knows that it will take time for me to be able to be in a relationship, but that I want to be in a relationship with him, too. If Levi periodically laying on Mike leads to them being happy together, well, I’ll be happy for them but the irrational jealousy that used to surge up at the thought is nowhere to be found.

“I was raised by one man,” I start quietly. “Papa found me as a baby. The people who had conceived and birthed me apparently wanted nothing to do with me and left me to die.”

Moblit hugs me tighter. “That’s horrible!”

“Their loss,” I say sulkily. “Shortly before Levi threw you at me, he helped me get rid of some identifying marks on my hip and upper arm.”

“That’s what those nasty scars were?”

“They can never prove that their abandoned baby grew up to be me.” It’s a bloody pleasure, but it’s mine and I revel in it. “So Papa raised me, but I was dead set on not having anything handed to me because of who raised me or who birthed me, so I don’t know who he was.”

Moblit’s breath catches. “Was?”

“He died shortly before I turned twelve. We knew it was going to happen, and made plans for it.”

“You...knew?”

And here we are. “I promised to tell you everything,” I say quietly. “This is a secret that only Levi and Erwin know, and I only told Erwin what he needed to know: that I sometimes have dreams about things that are going to happen in the future.”

Moblit’s fingers move smoothly through my hair, but he doesn’t say anything for a long minute. “What else is there to know?”

Hesitantly, I tell him about the smelly jerk. How he started appearing in my dreams when I was a child, proving that his information was good. How he’s never happy and doesn’t want to be happy. Some of the conversations we had where he helped me figure out my feelings on complicated issues by just listening while I ranted. The list of fatalities for the 23rd expedition he made me write out a year beforehand so that Erwin would know my dreams could be trusted. How he helped me prevent countless deaths in Trost.

The dream about Bertholt, and Reiner, and Annie, and a titan that went on all fours lizard-quick and a gorilla-like abnormal named Zeke who spoke with a human tongue.

I tell Moblit about my childhood, growing up in Papa’s townhouse and never seeing anyone but him (and the drunk asshole in my dreams) until I left to enter the Training Corps. About how I tried to convince myself (and everyone else) that I was a girl when I first joined the SC, and how Mike sniffed out that it was a charade and encouraged me to be myself and not try to pretend I was something I wasn’t. I tell him what happened after Bertholt and Reiner came knocking on my workroom door, meeting Annie in the woods so Reiner could fight her into submission, titan to titan, and convince her to side with us instead of Zeke.

I tell him that Berholt is the Colossal titan, and how the news of his father’s death was the wedge that drove him away from the people who’d sent them to destroy us from the inside.

Then I tell Moblit why Erwin gets ruined baked goods when I’ve covered for his idiot ass, and we share the rest of the cherry tart Bertholt gave me.

“That’s a lot to take in,” Moblit says slowly once we’ve demolished the tart. “I can definitely see why you didn’t tell me most of it. I won’t lie, part of me wishes you still hadn’t, but the rest of me is glad you did.”

“You are?” I ask, pulling the quilt tighter around myself and idly remembering that I’m still not wearing anything.

Moblit smiles at me. “Of course. I can’t support you properly if I don’t know what burdens you’re carrying.”

He cares. He really, truly wants to spend his life looking after my disaster ass, taking care of me and supporting me. He’s heard the things I don’t tell anyone, he’s seen my mismatched genitalia, and he still wants to be in a relationship with me. I’ve never experienced acceptance this unconditional, this complete, this relentless, and I don’t quite know what to do with it - so I curl up into a quilt-wrapped ball with my head in Moblit’s lap and feel very small and pathetic when his response is to stroke my hair and murmur reassurance, having correctly identified that I’m in an emotionally overwhelmed state.

One day, I’ll be able to tell him how I feel and face the world knowing that this amazing man will face it with me, whatever it contains.

But not today.